Copy Cat
by shootingstella
Summary: Just because he never had the chance to be a movie star, or a cult leader, didn't mean he couldn't have fan girls... or followers. - Rated V for Violent - Re-released in Imax and 3D. -"it's like an effed up, light hearted, all upside down high school movie." -TheDevotchka.


**Everyone remember tomorrow is your last opportunity to sign up for the fic exchange! **

this has been a Salmon Service Announcement

* * *

**Coming soon to computers near you**

For the Sake of the Community 

By Chinese Bakery

* * *

From the brilliant mind that brought you I Think You Should Know I'm Damaged

LemonWorld II

* * *

An American Love Story: The Parmiga Saga part III

Brought to you by Canadian genius jandjSalmon

* * *

**And now for our feature presentation**

brought to you by all the haters out there

* * *

With a distasteful glare into the mirror, Violet pulled on an over sized cardigan and ran her fingers through her hair a few times. Her father was waiting outside her bedroom door, tapping his foot impatiently. In a sudden and uncharacteristic moment of parental obligation, he was following through on an order.

She wasn't happy with his new found patriarchal interest to her education, but with her mother gone to the looney bin, she was impressed that he hadn't forgotten about her all together.  
She picked up a marble notebook and headed out the door, hearing him fall into step behind her.

Violet stopped off in the kitchen, rolling her eyes at Ben when he assumed her need for sustenance was a stall tactic and gave him the finger from behind the open fridge door. He told her that he would be waiting in the car but would be back to drag her out if she didn't hurry up.

She poured herself a thermos full of orange juice and when the door of the fridge fell shut, she was so surprised it almost fell to the floor.

He clamped his hand over her mouth to stop her from yelling.

He leaned in and backed her into the fridge. As he slowly lowered his hand and brought his lips painfully close to hers, he whispered, "That's only intended for hot beverages."

"Fuck the police!" she exclaimed, meaning it to be ridiculous but quickly catching herself on his surprised expression. Somewhere deep in the recesses of his brain, she was probably reminding him of a lot more than classic gangster rap.

She smirked and pushed past him,

_Note to self: try more awkward conversational references. They might do the trick. _

She set her thermos down on the counter to close it and smiled when she felt him pressing into her back, caging her in with an arm on either side.

She spun around to face him, not expecting him to kiss her so quickly but he did.

It was hot and slow and wet and when he pulled away from her, looking devastatingly pleased with himself, and pretty much just devastating in general, she was light headed.

_Christ Tate I just put these panties on. _

"Play hookie with me?"

_I'd rather play doctor. Oh my god, Violet, you're disgusting. _

"I have to go to school Tate, Ben's waiting in the car."

"You've been gone for two weeks, what's one more day?"

_He's so convincing. And pretty. He's so pretty… No! Let's get control of ourselves shall we?_

She pecked him on the cheek, moving too quickly for him to catch her lips with his again and get her all dazed and confused and unmotivated to leave the house.

"I'll be home at 3:30. Come over then?"

_Or just wait here, you know, whatever. _

He nodded and she ducked under his arm and walked slowly to the door, trying to concentrate on her steps and not the feeling of his eyes watching her leave.

* * *

Tate stared out the window as the Harmon's minivan pulled out of the drive way. He knew Violet had things to do, obligations of the living realm to attend to, but he had really been looking forward to playing Scrabble today.

* * *

The drive to Westfield was short but tense, not a word was spoken until the obligatory 'bye's' and awkwardly absent "I love you's' through the rolled down window as she walked away.

She stared up at the red brick front building; it had been a fortnight since she'd seen it last.  
It looked different; almost unrecognizable.

_Maybe they painted or something. Maybe it's me..._

A car horn honked behind her and startled out of her reflection.  
Ben was leaning into the passenger seat of the minivan.

"Go," he mouthed, pointing his finger at the double doors in front of her.  
She rolled her eyes at him and turned to head in.

* * *

Tate was wandering through the rooms of The Murder House. Ben wasn't back from dropping off Violet, and of course Vivien was probably somewhere finger painting her feelings, so the house was devoid of life.

God he hated not having her around. He didn't even need to be with her, he just wanted to watch her. She was so interesting and full of life and light and now that she was gone he couldn't remember what he used to do before she came along.

Winding up in their bedroom, like he always did, he looked around for something to entertain himself. When his eyes landed on her laptop, a hesitant smile crossed his lips. There were computers in the nineties, it's not like he was from the Stone Age or anything but everything seemed so much more delicate.  
He opened it up carefully and started the internet, thinking that some music might be nice.

He wanted to hear "Where Did You Sleep Last Night," a song that hadn't come out until after he died, but Violet had recently introduced to him.

She taught him things every day, like patience and tenderness and all that jazz, but the thought of her knowing more about Nirvana than he did irked him. So he was on a mission to memorize their new stuff.

New to him at least.

As soon as he pressed the 'w' key, the screen flashed him a list of suggestions.

"Where did you sleep last night?" was on it, but the suggestion above it made his heart catch in his throat.

"Westfield Massacre?" he whispered to himself.

He clicked through the link, wondering, if it could be his Westfield?

_His_ massacre?

His own face on the screen confirmed his worst fears and he buried his face in his hands.

_Why is this here?_

Was this the kind of thing that the sick freaks at Google recommended to all of its users?

Or did the computer expect her to want it.

Just like it expected her to want Nirvana songs.

Was this why she had pulled away from him recently? Why she had been so distant?

No. It couldn't be. Because she had taken him back; surely if she knew about this she would have been long gone by now.

* * *

Silent reading time pretty much dominated her first period English class.  
Waste of her forty five minutes, honestly. Did they not realize that she had better things to do? There was a seventeen year old dead boy at home with bedroom eyes and shoulders that made her knees weak who would try a lot harder to keep her entertained than this bullshit lesson plan.  
_Oh wow. _

Outside the realm of The Murder House, her inner monologue made her sound like a lunatic.

_All the more reason to head back ASAP.  
Head back? Really? _

_Yep. Don't like it here; too much perspective, not enough specters. _

It was so obvious now how it had happened to Tate. She could almost see him on the other side of this very classroom, slowly changing from an exceptionally attractive teenager into an exceptionally attractive psychopath. She could see the gears of war churning behind his eyes as he contemplated the best way to help these stupid fucking kids.  
When she looked around now at her 'peers', she honestly pitied them. She wanted to tell them they shouldn't worry, because all of the college degrees and mediocre careers in the world wouldn't compare with eternity. And all the good grades they got and nonprofit charities they started wouldn't be able to compete with the raw nerve of evil in her basement.

_Poor fuckers are so out of the loop_.  
She didn't want to kill them though. That must have just been the way Tate's mind worked.

_He had probably always been a hot headed little fucker; violence in the name of justice and all that crap. _

Violet had always been more inclined towards detachment and superiority; so she eagerly glanced at the clock behind her, counting the minutes until she would be able to scrape the chewed gum that was Westfield's student body off the sole of her shoe and high tail it back to The Murder House.

Fifteen minutes left of this class. She could be home by 9am. She could be dead by 10.

_You'll pussy out and go to second period like everybody else, so don't even act like you're heading home to bite a bullet. _

She was about to argue with herself, reasoning that she wouldn't be able to pussy out forever, but a sound so loud it shook the windows split her thoughts in half. Her organs leapt into her chest and she had broken a cold sweat before she could even realize what it was.

When she heard it again, her brain caught up to her adrenal system and she hated that _he_ was her first thought.  
That was impossible. Of course she knew that, but it would have been undeniably romantic.

Before her mind could conjure up fantasies of him dressed in darkness and the worst intentions, here to take her away from this place and back to where she was starting to believe she belonged, the cattle around her began the inevitable stampede.

* * *

Having abandoned his search for music and a better understanding of Kurt's discography, Tate was laying on the floor of their bedroom, arm slung over his eyes and fingers tapping manically on the stained wood beneath him.

He didn't think she knew.  
_She couldn't know._

But he had been confronted with the possibility and it was consuming him.  
It would be so easy for her to find out. He couldn't protect her forever, especially not from the internet.

_If I tell her, I could lose her._

_Fuck_

_But if I don't tell her, and she finds out on her own, I will lose her._

_Double fuck._

How was he supposed to tell her though? It was a complicated memory.

And not complicated because of his own painful regret and twisted pride, but because of what the memory actually entailed.

He coped by thinking of it as little as he could, blocked it out, denied everything. He had gotten good at it. So good in fact that on Halloween he had been able to keep it together, until of course, they came back to the house.

Then he knew that it was only a matter of time before…

He got them away from Violet, luckily, and even made it through their interrogation.

But once they walked off into the sunrise, he bled out into the sand.

He could feel it starting now; he huffed over the inconvenience of it. How was he supposed to sort this shit out if he died every time he tried?

The pains in his chest began like a searing hot poker. He counted the marks; always.

Because, well, what else is there to do while you're lying on the floor reliving bullet wounds, but pay attention to them.

The sounds and smells of the day were flooding back to him.

Screams and gunshots mingled with the wail of sirens in his head.

The tang of copper was on his tongue and the muscles in his arm twitched as he reached the point of second death.

He drew in a shaky breath as he felt the blood spill over, saturating his flannel in a way that not even the grungiest mother fucker would have been able to pull off.

His eyes rolled back into his head and it was finally over.

When he came back, he pulled in a gasping breath.

He reached down to touch his chest, finding it clean and solid, which was odd, seeming as his hallucination didn't seem to be over.

He could still hear the sirens coming for him.

_Oh god, round two?_

He squeezed his eyes shut and went to his nothing place_._

_Empty. Black. Dark. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing._

He opened one eye.

The sirens still wailed but no fresh wounds opened and his mouth was free from the taste of blood. He tentatively got to his feet and before he even made it to the window, the aura of flashing lights told him that this was real. Dozens of police cars racing down the street, their sirens blaring as they approached and then faded into the distance, only to be replaced with another batch. There were ambulances, a fire truck and even one of those big LAPD trucks that they only brought in for special occasions.

He knew all about those trucks.

He had been a special occasion once.

When he heard them coming for him all those years ago, he hadn't even broken a sweat.

But now, as he watched them all speed off in the direction of Westfield, his heart was in his throat.

* * *

This couldn't be happening. It was too crazy.

_Oh god. What if I die here?_

_That would be the most pathetically ironic romantic thing to ever happen in the history of love._

_Oh! Love._

Too bad she was too busy running for her life to properly acknowledge her little emotional breakthrough.

The sounds of artillery were booming from somewhere behind them.

('Them', was Violet and a handful of students from her 'dull' and 'uneventful' English class.)

_Where are the rest of them? _She wondered while she ran.

_Probably sitting tight, smart considering the police will be here soon and probably save them first. Maybe they have the right idea…._

Although Violet couldn't shake the image of a gunman walking calmly into a classroom and shooting them like fish in a barrel.

_I wonder how Tate-_

_Never mind._

Her little group was losing members though. Kids were abandoning the easy target of large clusters to hide in bathrooms or possibly try to climb out through windows. They were desperate; she wanted to laugh when she saw one kid trying to close himself into a locker, but she couldn't even smile.

_Was this how people felt when Tate-_

_Never mind._

An expected sound coming from a not so expected place stopped Violet dead in her tracks.

Two kids came running towards them, desperate and crying.

And then everyone knew.

There were two shooters, one at each end. They had probably started at the main exists and now they were closing in.

Before that thought could fully sink in, someone threw open the big double doors that led to the library; a half-way point in the layout of the school.

'No!' she felt herself scream in her mind. She already knew how this part of the story went.

There was an older kid standing by the open door, looking at her hesitation as pure insanity, trying to pull her inside.

_If the two shooters had started on opposite ends of the school, this would be the point where they met up._

_These people should really listen to me; not to brag, but I'm basically an expert on things like this._

The senior finally got fed up with her and practically lifted her off the floor, closing the giant metal door and locking the deal bolt behind her.

_Well there goes that._

The others who had taken refuge in the library were clustered together at the front of the room, checking for cellphone signals and taking turns crying and hushing each other.

She wandered away almost immediately.

She hopped over the short wall of the librarian's station and looked around.

Cellphone signals were dead in the library, she didn't need to check to know that. She dug into the drawers with purpose.

_Maybe there's a land line back here._

_Or a flare gun._

_Or one of those little boxes with a hammer and a sign that says "Break Glass in Event of Tate Langdon."_

Shit out of luck on all counts.

The gun shots had been drawing closer the whole time, she couldn't quite hear them over the buzzing in her brain, but she felt them shake through the building.

She didn't know how much time had passed, but this shot…She had been waiting for this one.

Right through the deadbolt of the library door.

* * *

As the shot rang through the room, the handful of people who had been standing around dove into hiding spaces of varying quality.

The kid hiding underneath the table would surely get it first, Violet thought as she dipped into the space underneath the librarian's desk.

She had been quiet, she was concealed from all angles; she had a real shot of getting out of this.

Out of this moment.

Out of this library.

Out of this school, this town, this fucked up perpetual summer time state.

The library echoed the ominous clickity-clack of hard heeled boot as the two Guns pushed in through the busted door. The footsteps separated as the two Guns chose different paths; making quick work of the library, collecting whatever huddled masses they could, and herding them towards the front of the room.

"How many did you get out there?" a surprisingly feminine voice asked.

_Didn't see that coming._

"Seven," a harder voice responded, it was still girlish but Violet could hear the smirk and the cold eyes behind it. "You?"

"Three; and four here. Do you think we could find at least one more hiding in the stacks?"

_Three… seven… and another five in here. Fifteen? Really? That's the best you can do ladies. Tate pulled that off single handedly. Find a new hobby._

_Really Violet? 'My boyfriend's better at shooting people than you are.'_

_You're ridiculous._

One pair of boots clicked off to peruse the other side of the room and now that they had stopped talking, Violet could hear the panicked breathing of the other hostages, standing painfully close to her cave.

They were panicking because they didn't want to die; not here and not anywhere. They had stuff to live for.

But she was a waste and she didn't deserve safety, because no matter what she walked out of here with, she would be walking straight back to that house.

She didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve anything, especially not from these kids.

She had come to terms with what Tate did, and if he could live with fifteen kids on his conscious, then she could live with him.

But if she got away, while these kids died, she wouldn't be able to live with herself.

She had to do something, but an erratic clicking from the other side of the librarian's desk froze her thoughts.

If she was going to do anything, she would need to know what the fuck was going on.

She leaned down, laying herself almost flat on the floor so she could attempt to see out into the room through a crack in the wooden paneling.

Nothing.

She rolled over a little bit so that she could have a lower vantage point…

And that's when her blood ran cold, for two reasons.

The first reason was because she realized the clicking had been coming from a can of red spray paint. Tate's name was dripping down the library wall. Fifteen hadn't been the most they could manage, it had been their goal. This was for him in some sort of sick and twisted way.

The second reason was that in her attempts to get a better look, she had knocked over a stack of books behind her and every head in the room had swiveled to face her hiding spot.

* * *

The click of high heeled boots approached her hiding spot.

_How's all that big talk going now that you're shit out of luck, still feel like playing the hero?_

The barrel of a shot gun slipped through the legs of the chair in front of her.

_You can't play the hero. Your best shot is to play 'smart ass who gets lucky.'_

She lifted her eyes to see out from under the desk, giving a little wink when she locked eyes with her would be murderer, and wrapped her lips around the barrel without hesitating.

The girl's eyes cross momentarily, confused by her actions, but instead of shooting, she just jerked the gun forward and growled, "Get up freak."

She popped her mouth away with a smile and pushed the chair out of her way as she got to her feet.

The gun barrel in her back directed her to go stand with the other four kids.

She hadn't really gotten a good look at the kids she was taking refuge with, but she had to make a physical effort to keep her face emotionless when she saw a gray streak of hair hiding a face that she knew all too well.

Leah.

Now she really needed to pull something out of her ass. Leah had been through enough and although she was suicidal most days, she deserved to at least end it all on her own terms.

Not like this.

She was out of ideas though. She glanced around the room, from one Gun to another, before her eyes finally landed on inspiration scrawled across the wall.

T4TE

Not TATE, not even 4TATE, but T4TE.

_Adorable._

She elbowed the kid next to her and pointed at the spray painted wall with a snort of laughter. He damn near shit his pants at the prospect of being dragged down with her.

Both Guns spun around to face her, "Something funny freak?"

She shook her head with a little eye roll before looking down and muttering, "Your doodle is cute."

The Gun with red hair took a step forward, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means it looks like a 12 year old wrote it."

The blonde, who was closer to Violet whipped around to face her partner, "I fucking told you it was dumb," she hissed.

_Jackpot._

"It's still salvageable though," Violet offered, lurching forward as she reached for the can of spray paint secured in Blondie's belt.

She was met with the sound of Red's gun cocking and aiming straight at her.

"Geeze, I'm just trying to help."

Blondie scowled over her shoulder and handed Violet the can, "Shoot her if she tries anything," she said without emotion.

Violet smirked and took the paint, walking calmly over to the wall, and finished the first leg of the 'A' and elongating the line that crossed them. Finally she drew a circle around the whole thing, turning it into the anarchy sign.

She stepped back, doing her best to not even bother looking at the expression on the Gun's faces, but their silence was confirmation enough.

_Nailed it! Should I push my luck?_

"He'd like that better," she mused, dropping the can to floor and returning to her place among the other hostages. She caught Leah's eye as she turned and gave her a little smirk.

"The one day we show up right?"

Leah tried not to let anyone else see her smile, but it tugged at the bandage across her cheek.

The Guns had been knocked off their game, it was obvious.

But she still had no idea what her plan was, or if she even had enough time to execute it.

* * *

**Author's note: If your tumblr name, or any screen name is T4TE, I am not making fun of you. I promise. These girls aren't trying to maneuver around screen name availability. They are just campy and cheesey.**

* * *

A horn blared through the library and disrupted the quiet sound of Blondie sizing Violet up.

'Come out with your hands up', and all that usual spiel came next, letting the girls know that if they didn't cooperate, SWAT would be coming in.

_Glad to see the community has gotten a little more proactive. Looks like these girls won't have time for a quick trip home like Tate did._

_Thank god he did…_

_Never mind._

"We don't have any time to waste, let's just get this done!" Red grabbed two hostages as she spoke.

They whimpered but she pulled them along without a second thought, positioning them in random places around the room that probably weren't as random as they seemed.

Blonde took two more, leaving Violet and her rapidly working mind alone in the center of the library. Red was already starting when Blondie made her way back for Violet; grabbing her roughly and snarling at her to get under the desk.

_Oh now I get it. I'm supposed to be Chloe._

"Do you believe in god?" she heard from across the room.

The girl that they had positioned between the stacks, out of Violet's range of vision must have answered silently because the next sound she heard was a shot gun cocking.

"No!" Violet screamed

She knew it wouldn't be enough to stop her, but for some reason there was a shower of sheet rock coming from the ceiling and Stephanie Boggs' stand in crumpling to the floor was almost audible.

"What the fuck?" Blondie shouted, turning her attention away from Violet and towards the opening in the rows of bookshelves where Red was emerging; fear stricken and a gun pressed into her temple.

She shouldn't have been surprised. To be honest she was wondering why they hadn't show up sooner.

"You... you're Kyle Greenwell," Blondie stuttered, glancing away from Kyle's bloody face to meet her partners eyes. She looked horrified, but also like she wanted someone to take her picture.

"Where the hell have you been all this time?" Violet asked casually, feeling pretty fucking superior because she ran with ghosts.

"We hung back, figuring your plan consisted of more than just being a smart ass."

"I was going to think of something."

"Not soon enough," Chloe had appeared next to Violet under the table and The Guns looked like they were about to burst into pieces.

Blondie was the first to break, sending a bullet straight through Chloe's heart.

Violet' nervous system leapt at the proximity to the bullet but she kept her face as stoic as she could.

"Very nice, killing a ghost; super effective."

"Ghost..." Blondie whispered the word as though she were trying to connect the real girl bleeding on the floor with the term she had pictured so differently in her mind.

Kyle had let go of his hostage and was hovering over Chloe's body, pushing Violet out of the small space as he lifted her limp head into his lap.

_This kind of thing must not be a regular occurrence here. How nice for them._

She placed a hand on his shoulder as he frantically tried to wake her.

"Don't worry. She'll come back in a few minutes. The ones at the house die all the time and they wake up just fine."

"What do you mean 'the ones at the house'?" Blondie chirped from behind them.

Violet rounded on her heel and hopped up onto the desk, swinging her legs casually; "My house is haunted, same as the school."

"By what?"

"By who..."

"I live in The Murder House."

Both Guns let their jaws hit the floor.

She smiled and slid off the table.

"That's…. that's where Tate Langdon lived."

"Very good," she patronized as she approached them slowly. "But I don't just live in his house…"

They were a captive audience.

"I sleep in Tate Langdon's old bedroom."

She could feel Kevin role his eyes at her back.

She was so close she could whisper in Blondie's ear, "There's an area rug on the floor, covering the stain he left when he bled out."

Their knees were knocking.

_Fan girls_ Violet scoffed inwardly.

"Does he... does he haunt you?"

"He does a lot more than haunt her, if you know what I mean."

Stephanie Boggs was sitting cross legged on top of the librarian's desk.

Violet smirked at her over Blondie's shoulder but chose to ignore her comment. The power in the room had shifted, she had these Guns right where she wanted them; she was really gonna pull this off.

"He would hate this you know? He would hate the two of you. You aren't paying him any homage or doing him any favors by playing live theater with his life story. I bet you don't even know why he did it."

"He doesn't even know why he did it," Kevin piped up from his seat on the closest window ledge.

"He does too! He just doesn't always remember," Violet insisted like a child. "Besides, all that matters right now is that they are probably only doing it to get their names in the paper like every other cheap excuse for a sociopath."

She made a slow circle around Blondie, stopping when she could comfortably whisper in her other ear. "You would make him sick."

Blondie shuddered; hunched and folded her shoulders in.

They were insulted, hurt; sick to their stomachs with the nagging feeling of failing in the eyes of someone you wanted so desperately to please.

Violet almost felt bad for them.

No. she actually felt bad for them.

_Shit._

No time to think about how fucked up that was, Kyle was back in the game now that Chloe had started breathing again, and all eyes were on him as he cocked the shot gun and took aim at Blondie.

He hesitated.

"Just shoot her already pussy!" Stephanie yelled.

His hand shook.

"It's okay if you can't kill them," Violet said, her voice surprisingly soft, but her intentions horrendously disturbing.

She saw an opportunity here, but she needed to play her cards right.

Everyone looked at her with confusion.

"You wanna do it yourself sweetheart? Isn't that just a little hypocritical?"

"They don't deserve to die; it would be the easy way out."

"What do you want to do, put them on a shelf in your precious house?"

"Fuck no, my house is crowded enough."

"…"

"Besides, what the house has to offer is so much worse than death."

Stephanie actually looked pleased, diabolical, but please. "Wanna meet your hero girls?"

Blondie almost exploded in a fit of joy. Red was licking her lips like a god damn pervert.

Kyle's finger was still on the trigger though, and he didn't seem convinced.

"Let her take them back to the house," an unexpected party piped up.

Violet smiled big as Leah emerged from behind the shelves.

"They'll get what they deserve and more. And then they'll have to live with it."

"You don't want their blood on your pretty little innocent hands anyway," Violet assured.

Gibberish, and the squicking sound of blood bubbling from Amir made Kyle put the gun down.

"He said we're better than that," Kevin translated.

The second and final warning from the bulls was screaming through the PA system.

"They're coming in but they'll be moving slowly, they know there are hostages. If you really want to go, you'll be able to make it back. But you'll need to leave now," Kyle said.

Kevin yanked open the window he was sitting by, "His own exit of choice if I remember correctly," as he dramatically gestured for them to go climb through.

"Thanks Bender," Violet smirked as she jumped to the pavement below with out hesitation.

Blondie followed right after, and Red came last, looking less then thrilled but it was clear she was not the one calling the shots.

* * *

The walk to The Murder House was tense to say the least. The two guns treated Violet like a target one minute and a tour guide the next. Their questions were ridiculous, but Blondie took the cake with her quest for too much information.

"Was Stephanie serious?"

"How do you know their names? Do you like, research this stuff?"

She nodded, "Yea, but come on, was she telling the truth? Do you... and Tate Langdon..."

"Fuck?" Violet said with a smirk, " We haven't yet. We fool around a little but we're taking it slow. We'll probably do it once I'm dead."

"What?" Blondie sounded confused.

"Maybe not right away, but probably by the end of the week, I mean, you've seen him-"

"No no no, not that. What do you mean by 'when you're dead'?"

The Murder House was just coming into view at the end of the street.

"Well you wanted to do something nice for him right?"

* * *

He was waiting for her by the door. Once he heard the sirens wiz past, the knot in his gut wouldn't let him brush it off. He put the news on and sure enough, he had a whole new perspective of a Westfield Massacre.

He watched as they carried the shell shocked survivors out of the school, there was no gunman to be seen.

One of the kids who was able to squeak out a few words to the police said that the gunmen had left with a hostage, apparently back to her house. That student had saved the rest of them.

No name was released, but he knew it was Violet.

He knew that sometimes she was so smart she bordered on crazy.

He also knew the reason Ben wasn't home yet. He was undoubtedly standing outside the school waiting for news.

Someone would have to take him aside, into a little room maybe; tell him that his fierce little girl was a hero, in the worst way possible.

Ben Harmon cried like a bitch on a daily basis, but today would be special.

Tate would be sobbing right along with him, but he knew Violet better than that. He was worried but he trusted her, so when she casually pushed in through the front door, flanked by 'two new friends' he wasn't surprised.

He stayed invisible.

* * *

"No one's home?" Blondie asked.

"Nope," Violet assured, "Not a soul in sight."

That was poignant. That was meant for him.

_She's so smart._

* * *

The three girls separated a bit as they moved through the first floor of the house. Violet was eager to make it seem like she trusted the them, but she kept them in the corner of her eye. She was sure they were doing the same to her.

"It's creepy I'll give it that, but…" Blondie hesitated, looking slightly embarrassed by her question, "Where are the ghosts?"

"It's not like they just hang out in my living room all day," Violet rolled her eyes; "They're ghosts. They... they hide I guess." To be honest, Violet wasn't even that sure.

"Well how can we make them come out and play?" Red asked and the suggestive tone in her voice made Violet grimace.

She knew what she was going to say; she knew that what she was about to do would override any reservations the ghosts, especially Tate, might have about revealing themselves to the living. She was going to put her life in the hands of two trigger happy fan girls who had already proven that they had no trouble taking a life, and pray they could do it again.

She didn't feel scared; she didn't feel anything.

If today had shown her anything, it was that this shit hole of a world served up a buffet of ways to die every single day.

She hadn't gotten shot today, but how could she be sure she wouldn't be hit by a bus tomorrow.

She wasn't afraid of dying; she was afraid of dying anywhere that wasn't in this house.

"Maybe you should try making some sort of grand gesture," Violet whispered, tapping two fingers to the front of her forehead, hoping that the signal was blatant enough for the Guns, but not the boyfriend who was undoubtedly hovering nearby.

It meant nothing to Red, but Blondie forced out a little puff of laughter before she blew Violet away.

* * *

So many things happened at once.

Red dropped to the floor at the sight of Violet's brain matter sprayed across the wall. A reaction that suggested she had spent the morning aiming at light fixtures and that her whopping three-count of bodies was a lie.

Across town Leah was refusing the blanket that an EMT worker insisted on wrapping around her shoulders, but managed to choked out her 'hero's' full name and home address.

Ben Harmon was led into that little room, the one Tate felt certain his own mother had seen the inside of on more than one occasion. He collapsed onto the table in violent sobs, spilling the obligatory and so very comforting paper cup full of water he had been offered.

Back at the house Tate shrugged off his invisibility and reached for Blondie's throat, and pushing her onto the floor. He plunged his fingers so deep into her flesh that he drew blood with his ragged bitten off nails.

Blondie damn near came in her pants because she had always had a thing for being choked and because Tate fucking Langdon was straddling her with an accidental but well placed knee in her crotch.

Violet woke up on the cold hard floor of the basement and luckily some of the adrenaline from her last moments of life had carried over and she scrambled up the stairs faster than she had ever moved before.

* * *

When she got upstairs she saw Tate on top of one Gun and the other unconscious on the floor.

_Shit he's fast._

"Tate," she whispered as she smoothed one palm over the back of his neck and used the other to pull him up by the shoulder a bit.

"Do you really want to kill her in the house Tate?"

He looked up at Violet and the rage that he had felt a second ago turned into frustration.

She was standing in front of him, perfect and pleading but she was dead.

This wasn't what he wanted for her.

All those years ago he had wanted to give those kids freedom, but with Violet, he had wanted to give her the world.

He would have done anything for her, but his situation was a little limiting. Dragging her to that tub and sticking his fingers down her throat had been gut wrenching, and painful, but it was all he could do for her and he was proud of himself.

And this bitch, this dumb bitch undid the only gift he could have ever given her.

He looked from the glossy eyes beneath him, to Violet's as she begged him to stop.

"Listen Tate," she placed a finger over her lips and he knew what she was talking about.

The fucking sirens again.

They were getting closer.

He stood up slowly, letting Blondie slump to the floor to take Violet's face in his hands, "How could you let this happen? I always thought you were too smart to wind up here…"

"Let?" she laughed out loud, "I fucking planned this!"

He was dumbstruck, "You- you did this on purpose?"

She nodded with a big smile, which was promptly replaced by surprise when the SWAT team busted into The Murder House.

"Let's get out of here!" she said nodding her head upstairs and disappearing in front of his eyes.

Violet was smart, but she was exhausting.

He grabbed the gun the red head had dropped before the SWAT team could snatch it up and disappeared, showing up outside her bedroom door. He waited a few seconds to account for the time it should have taken him to climb the steps.

Then he knocked.

"You walked?" she cocked her head, confused. "What's that for?" she looked at the gun in his hand.

"I'm- I'm going to kill myself. I want to stay with you."

"Tate," she closed her eyes, taking a slow breath through her nose, "How stupid do you think I am?"

"There's nothing stupid about you Violet, what are you talking about?"

She took the gun out of his hands and tossed it onto her bed.

"You're already dead Tate," quick like a band-aid.

_What is this face you're making Tate? Are you shocked? Are you not gonna believe me? Shit I should have let him just shoot himself._

"You know I'm dead?"

"I thought you said you didn't think I was stupid. I know everything Tate, I know that you're dead, I know… How you died."

"You know about…"

She nodded, rolling her eyes a bit to avoid the awkward 'I don't mind so much that you're a murderer' moment they were having here.

"How can you even look at me?" he was dripping with shame.

She rushed closer to him, tipping his head back up so he could see her, "Because I love you"

He smiled, "I love you too!" He had told her before but he confirmed it like he was afraid she would forget. "I-I saved you...I never wanted-"

"I believe you," Her hand cradled his chin and she kept him quiet with a thumb on his lips. "And I'm grateful Tate. If you had let me die, I would have been so miserable. I would have thought I was missing out. But you gave me one more chance to look at the world," She tried to smile, "And it's a god damn horror show out there."

* * *

She was standing in front of him.

She was perfect and pleading.

She was dead and all for him to keep.

So he gave her what she wanted and took her face in his hands, pulling her lips to his.

* * *

Their kiss was interrupted by the quick 'woop woop' from the cop car outside.

They pulled away from each other and couldn't help the curiosity in their eyes. They ran to the window like children on Christmas to watch the scene unfolding below them.

Red was sitting on tail gate of an ambulance, trying to keep her shaking to a minimum.

Blondie was being manhandled in the middle of the street, making no attempt to go peacefully. She wasn't armed, and she wasn't about to overpower the SWAT team by hand, so they let her struggle.

"What's their story anyway?" Tate asked.

Violet laughed, "They're in love with you."

"What?" he barked out.

"Yea, the whole thing was for you. But I told them you would have thought it was stupid and that there was something you'd like much better." She looked up at him with a little smile and a wink.

He kissed her on the forehead, "Well I guess it's the thought that counts… But…she did kill you."

"So?" she asked.

"Soooo," He reached behind him for the shot gun that had been discarded on Violet's bed.

"Tate!" she exclaimed but he had already cocked the gun.

One shot through the second story window of The Murder House, straight through Blondie's chest.

She fell to the floor like a rag doll sending the officers around her into a flurry.

Violet's mouth hung open as she stared up at him. W_hat the actual fuck?_

"What?" He asked, completely innocent, as though he hadn't just shot someone.

She huffed out a breath, rolled her eyes, and slowly gave him a reluctant smile.

"You're one hell of a shot."

* * *

They kiss and 'Shut Up' by Simple Plan plays


End file.
